Broken Promises
by meixel
Summary: A one-shot that's a response to the writers' challenge: write a story involving the characters as juveniles. This is a prequel to "Far From the Tree."


a/n: This is in response to a writers' challenge. The characters from the series do not belong to me. The writing is done for purposes of enjoyment and development. Dedicated to the wonderful ladies who call this fanon home.

**Broken Promises**

* * *

**San Francisco**

**Spring, 1957**

"But Daddy, Mr. Pigglesworth is still at the ball field," little Jeannie Stone pleaded with tears in her eyes as the little girl refused to climb into her parents' car. Mike circled around the car as he unlocked the doors watching the dramatic scene unfold. "I left him there on accident!" she protested.

"Dear," Helen began calmly, "where did you leave it? I checked the stands before we left and didn't see it. Are you sure you brought it with you?"

The six year old was incredulous. "Of course I did, Mommy! I wanted him to cheer Daddy's team on!" The young girl let out a deep sigh before the world came crashing down on her. Her beloved stuffed animal was lost for the ages. She began to sob.

Mike flashed a quick glance at his wife. He was defeated without even protesting. "Listen Sweetheart, I was busy coaching the boys with your Uncle Rudy, so I don't remember seeing the little piggy. But why don't I take you back to the fields and we can look around? Perhaps it fell between the bleachers."

The little blonde girl could not stop crying, but she did manage to nod her head. Helen smiled at her husband and crossed her fingers to which Mike responded with rolled eyes and a slight grin. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but a little girl lost without her stuffie was beyond contemplation. "I'll wait here for you," Helen responded.

"We'll be just a few minutes. I'll give you the keys," he said as he offered his wife the set in his hand. "Come on, Sweetheart," Mike ordered as he took his daughter's hand.

* * *

After several minutes, Father and Daughter returned to Field 8, the scene of his team's recent baseball game. The journey proved to be quite a hike for little six year old legs. Halfway through the walk, Mike swept his daughter up over his head, perching her on his shoulders. It seemed fitting for the princess he knew she was.

Jeannie Stone was the pride and joy for both her parents. While Helen loved her without condition, it was clear that little Jeannie was completely her daddy's girl and the apple of his eye. Crises such as a missing stuffed piggy - while life altering for the little girl - served only as a reminder to the elder Stone how much he loved his family and his life. He never took his blessings for granted - not for a moment.

With the game over and the trophy awarded, the ballfield no longer had the activity of two dozen twelve year old boys who played their hearts out in the tournament final. One team was local. The Vipers were coached by Lieutenant Rudy Olsen, Mike's long time friend and superior from the Bureau of Detectives. Rudy was also the father of one of the boys on the team.

Needing an assistant at the start of the season, Rudy drafted Sergeant Stone who had coached older boys on a team comprised of tough kids who had already experienced trouble with the law. It was a part of a community outreach program the police department sponsored and Mike his role as coach very seriously.

The opposing team traveled from Modesto to play in the long weekend tournament. The visiting players stayed with their coaches and a few volunteer parents at a local motel for the event. The Modesto Marvels were elated with the win. While Rudy and Mike were certainly disappointed that their team had lost, they both acknowledged that the kids from the country were very good ballplayers and deserved their respect.

* * *

Mike and Jeannie searched for the pink stuffed pig in the home stands. Pink was not a color normally found near a ballfield, which left Mike hopeful the little toy would stand out while he quickly glanced around the area. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he noticed one of the Modesto boys sitting quietly on the first row of the visitor stands, seemingly staring at the ground. Mike thought little of it and returned to the task at hand.

"Sweetheart, I don't see Mr. Pigglesworth. Are you sure this is where you left him?" Mike said as he addressed his daughter.

"This is where Mommy and I were sitting," Jeannie said.

Mike took a quick peek below the stands and saw nothing but discarded paper cups and wrappers. He took a deep breath as he realized that the stuffed toy might truly be lost.

"Sweetheart, I don't know..." Mike began only to see the wave of tears begin to form in his daughter's eyes.

"But he was right here," she shrieked and then collapsed with her arms around her father's waist, burying her face in his coat.

The act caught the attention of the young boy briefly. He wistfully watched the exchange between the father and daughter, frowned and looked down at his cleats.

"There, there," Mike soothed. "Maybe someone took it to the Lost and Found already. Or maybe one of the player's parents picked it up." The father was desperate to come up with a reasonable explanation that gave some hope.

Jeannie pushed away from her father and looked around again. This time, she saw the young boy sitting in the opposing stands. "Maybe _he_ saw something," she said while pointing to the slender, brown-haired boy. "Maybe he even has it!"

The little girl quickly ran over to the boy, intent on finding answers.

* * *

"Boy," the little girl began, "have you seen a little pink pig?"

The young man fidgeted, not really wanting the attention. "No."

"Are you sure?" Jeannie asked as she squinted at the older boy. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"What?" the boy asked. He couldn't believe the nerve of such a little thing. "Of course not!"

"He's pink with cute floppy ears, a twirly tail and a very shy smile. His name is Mr. Pigglesworth. My mommy got him for Easter," she said.

The young man simply shrugged his shoulders and tried to ignore the girl.

"Did you see anybody take him? Someone from your team, perhaps?" Jeannie pressed.

Mike couldn't believe his ears and wondered where on earth his precious daughter learned to address people that way. "Jeannie, I think you are approaching this young man all wrong. What you should do is say, "Excuse me, but have you seen a little stuffed pig?" At this point, Mike looked over to the boy for an answer.

The boy realized that he was being asked the same question, only this time by the father. "No sir, I don't know anything about it."

"How long have you been sitting here?" Jeannie asked again just as fiercely as before. "Have you been here since the end of the game? You're on the Marvels' team, so you had to have been here."

"Jeannie, I'm sure this young man is telling the truth," Mike said with a smile to the twelve year old.

The boy simply shrugged his shoulders again and looked down. Thinking there was more to the lonely little boy he was seeing, Mike tried a different tact. "Say, weren't you the catcher for the Marvels? You really protected the plate, especially against our star player in that last inning."

The boy's face lit up. "Yes, sir. Your star player nearly mowed me over. He's such a big kid."

Happy to see the boy finally smile, Mike exclaimed, "You bet he is! Why he's a good foot taller than you and maybe fifty pounds heavier - and yet you stopped him." Mike couldn't quite understand why, but he felt an immediate need to befriend and protect the child. "What's your name, son?"

"Steve," came the quiet reply.

"Well, Steve, I guess you figured out I am the coach of the other team. If you ever find yourself in San Francisco and needing a new baseball team, you make sure you call me."

Just then the boy's coach walked up with a sheet of paper. There was a concerned look on his face as he didn't like the idea of a stranger talking to the little boy, even if that stranger was the other team's coach. "Is there a problem?" he asked Mike as he looked over to assess his player.

"No problem at all. I'm here looking for my daughter's stuffed animal and she wanted to know if this young man saw anything."

"I want to know if he took it!" Jeannie accused.

"JEANNIE!" Mike admonished.

"Why would I take your dumb old pig?" Steve asked the little girl.

"He's not dumb...YOU ARE!" Jeannie shrieked. She started to kick Steve in the shins when her father pulled her back.

"Young lady, I'm warning you! We will leave without further regard to Mr. Pigglesworth if you keep this up!" He turned to the boy's coach. "I'm so sorry. She's just had a long day."

"We all have. We're taking the boys out for a celebratory dinner, but I wanted to come back to check on young Steve here. He was waiting for his father. I don't want him to be waiting long by himself."

Mike noticed the young boy wince at the suggestion of his parent. There was something about the child that captured his attention. The look of sadness and loneliness was unmistakeable. He had seen it before in some of the youths he'd worked with. Who was this boy and would he find himself in a similar position that the delinquents Mike usually coached?

His thoughts were interrupted by the coach. "I'm Jim Riley," he said as he extended his hand. Mike gladly shook it and introduced himself. "One of the other coaches on the Marvels said that you and your head coach were cops. Is that right?"

"It sure is. We're both in the Bureau of Inspectors - Homicide here in San Francisco."

"Interesting. I'm deputy sheriff of Modesto. Happy to see law enforcement guys doing the coaching."

"Well, I guess we know how to interpret rules, don't we?" Mike agreed.

"It's an occupational hazard," Riley said and then he looked at Jeannie. "Did you say you were looking for a pig, young lady?"

"I most certainly am!" Jeannie continued to be fearless.

"I saw a couple of boys near the home dugout batting a little pink fuzzball around. Maybe that's your pig. Steve, why don't you take the little lady over to the dugout and see what you can find."

"Yes, sir," he replied with a sigh and hoisted himself up in an exaggerated manner. Finding a stuffed pig was the last thing he wanted to do.

Within a few minutes, Steve recovered Mr. Pigglesworth from underneath the dugout bench much to the delight of the little girl. "Mr. Pigglesworth!" she squealed.

"It was with your dad's team after all," Steve concluded as he walked the little girl back to the adults. "I think you owe me an apology."

"Why? You could have had it. You had motive and opportune...opportune...," Jeannie declared while struggling with the words.

"You mean motive and opportunity? What are you, some sort of a mini cop? Or maybe you're watching too much Edward G. Robinson, perhaps?"

"My daddy is a cop and he's the best in the world," she proudly announced.

Steve uttered a harumph, but chose to say nothing more as the children made their way back to the coaches.

"Steve," Riley began, "I think it's time you joined the team back at the restaurant. I'm afraid your dad isn't going to make it."

Steve became upset and pleaded, "No, he'll be here. I know he will!"

"Steve," Riley reasoned. "He should have been here three hours ago before the game started. The game is now over and we need to get you and the boys back home."

"But he'll be here. Please, Coach, let me stay for a little while longer," Steve begged.

"We'll leave him a note. See, I've written it out and we can leave it on the bench. I'm telling him to meet us over at Sal's, the burger place across the street." Riley found a rock and secured the paper with the stone in order to keep it from blowing away.

Knowing defeat, Steve's eyes began to water, his lip quivered and he lowered his head. The coach grabbed the shorter boy and placed him in a hug. "It's okay, Stevie. Charlie's not a bad guy. He just has his wires crossed, that's all."

"He's not coming," Steve finally admitted in a muffled cry.

"No, kiddo, he's not." Riley decided to say no more. He didn't want to make excuses for Charlie, Steve's poor example of a father. The man had abandoned the boy and saw little of him after his mother died. "Come on, let's go back to the team. They're waiting on you. They really want you to be with them to celebrate. Okay?"

Steve stayed with his face buried in his coach's jacket until he was able to release all the built up sadness. Riley shook his head. "Such a good kid, but so many broken promises. It breaks my heart. Why his dad is a no show time and again, I'll never understand," he whispered to Mike.

"If you don't mind me asking, where's his mother?" Mike asked.

"She died years ago. He lives with his grandfather, but I try to keep an eye on him as well. His mom was a good friend."

"He seems to be a fine boy. Anyone can see that," Mike commented as he patted the boy's shoulder.

"Come on, Steve, let's go," Riley ordered. This time the boy nodded his head, quickly grabbed his bat bag and walked ahead without saying good-bye.

"And I'm happy you found your pig, young lady," Riley added to Jeannie. "But next time, be more careful."

Mike grabbed his daughter and gave her an extra hug. "I'm sure she will!" Mike called out. "Sweetheart, I think you should say 'thank you'!"

"Hmmph. I don't like that boy," Jeannie replied quietly. "He was mean."

"Jeannie..." Mike said warning her one final time.

"Okay," she responded and then yelled out, "Thank you!" She grabbed her piggy and began running to the parking lot and back to her mother. Whether Jeannie knew it or not, she was fortunate that she had both of her parents and that they wanted to be there with her.

Mike said a quick prayer for the young catcher. Twelve was too young to be alone, he thought. Perhaps someday Steve could put his past behind him and build himself a bright future - or worse, would he end up in despair, finding solace in all sorts of risky places?

Mike shook his head. Certainly, he would never know.


End file.
